A student seeking to set the Hebrew Bible into its ancient Near Eastern
context will certainly have to delve deep into the treasures of Ugaritic
literature. Faced with the question of how best to introduce a beginner to
Ugaritic the authors of this book decided to provide a historical and
cultural background (Chapter 1, pp. 1-30) before teaching the language. Even
so, language is given pride of place in its subtitle and it is on that
that the book is mainly focused. They opt for an inductive method of
teaching, first from a selection of prose (school texts, letters,
administrative and legal documents: Chapters 2-5, pp. 31-116) and then from
a selection of verse (Chapter 6, pp.117-148). A concise summary of Ugaritic
grammar is provided in Chapter 7 (pp. 149-179). The book concludes with a
Glossary (Chapter 8, pp. 180-209), a classified bibliography of suggested
supplementary reading (Chapter 9, pp. 210-221) and a very selective index
(pp. 222-226), in which a few English proper names and some Ugaritic and
Akkadian lexemes are all amalgamated.

Pre-publication readers have lavished fulsome praise on this book. The
back-cover includes the phrase very welcome addition (from Mark Smith) and
the statement many aspects make it a must-have (from Brent A. Strawn).
The last two paragraphs on that cover are reproduced as the last two
paragraphs on p. i, but with an error in the last line, one of the first
indications that the final stages of production were sloppy.

On-line reviews of the book were the first to appear. The first was in JHS
in 2008
(http://www.arts.ualberta.ca/JHS/reviews/review290.htm), more or
less as soon as the book was published. It was fairly short and in it
Charles Halton appropriately applauded the authors for identifying a
paedagogic gap waiting to be filled. He noted, but almost en passant, that
one or two details needed to be modified, and this elicited an immediate and
friendly response from one of the authors dated 20 January 2008: Thanks for
the review Charles. The Primer was the culmination of 10+ years of
teaching Ugaritic by Joel and myself. If anyone catches any
typos/corrections, please send them along to me. At some point, I plan to do
a 2nd edition with corrections and updates. Best regards, Bill Schniedewind
(http://awilum.com/?p=491). I am grateful to the editors of JHS for allowing
me the opportunity to make this supplementary assessment.

The first printed notice was by O. Loretz, who concisely but approvingly
wrote Dem Primer ist Erfolg zu wünschen![1] I subsequently wrote a similarly concise but more critical paragraph
for the Book List of the Society for Old Testament Study (2008, pp. 236-237). At the
time of writing these are the only published assessments I know of, though I
have been told that others are waiting in the queues. My further reading of
the book has revealed more serious deficiencies which are likely to cause
difficulty to a student who works through the book as intended, chapter by
chapter. They will need to be considered when preparing the promised second
edition.

Frequent typographical mistakes mar Chapter 1. Although some can be
corrected easily they dilute one's confidence in the text. There are also
matters of inconsistency, the responsibility for which the publisher's
reader should share with the author. The format of Gilgamesh Epic (p. 9)
and of Gilgamesh epic (p.10) should be the same; the distance from Ras
Shamra to Minet el-Beida is expressed metrically (p. 8, §1.2, line 4: 1
kilometer), but to Ras Ibn Hani imperially (p. 9, line 4: 3 miles), and
elsewhere, more convincingly, both styles are found (p. 12 : a medium sized
state covering 1,240 square miles [2000 km2]). Careless phraseology can
raise questions that are more than cosmetic. Some are reasonably easy to
resolve, such as olives instead of olive groves (p. 8 line 5), but
began under the direction of Claude Schaeffer and his successors in 1929
is an ambiguous way of describing work that was begun under Schaeffer and
later continued under his successors (p. 8, §1.2, line 1f.).

Geography emerges as a weak point. To say that Ugarit is located on the
northern coast of the eastern Mediterranean (p. 5) is misleading. It
suggests a site in southern Turkey whereas Ras Shamra is on the northern
part of the eastern Mediterranean coast. A map (Fig. 1.1) clarifies the
question but it has not been drawn well. White is used for water and shadow
for land, so that most of the place names appear in black against a shadowed
background. It would have been better to use white for land and shadow for
water. The next map (Fig. 1.2) is worse, for the place names are so badly
distorted that some are hardly legible. It is also differently orientated
and includes Kadesh, Byblos and even the eastern extremities of Cyprus
within the kingdom of Ugarit. The third map (Fig. 1.3), a sketch map of the
region immediately around Ugarit, is much clearer, though it appears to be a
direct copy of the handiwork of Marguerite Yon.[2] It is conceded that the plan of the tell which shows the find
spots of tablets is based on Yon and O. Pedersen, but those words should
not be taken to refer to a jointly authored book, for there is no such book.
The only citation for Yon in the Bibliography is The City of Ugarit at
Tell Ras Shamra, but neither there
nor in the earlier French edition (Yon 1997) is any such plan to be found.
Nowhere in the Bibliography is Pedersén cited, but in Archives and
Libraries in the ancient Near East[3]
he acknowledges that he had modified for his purpose a plan in Contenson.[4]

A student has good reason to be confused when an unsubstantiated argument is
compounded with inconsistency and error. The scribes responsible for the
texts of Ugaritic epic literature are said to have enjoyed royal sponsorship
(p. 10-11). The evidence for the suggestion is that the scribe Ilimilku was
supported by the patronage of king Niqmaddu. This is based on translating
ty.nqmd, a phrase in the colophon of Ilimilku, as from the patronage of
Niqmaddu (but see G. del Olmo Lete, Ug. t, ty, tt: nombre divino y
acción cultual,).[5] That translation
depends on deriving the admittedly difficult word ty from t offering.
The semantic link between the two words is not immediately obvious, yet no
further explanation is given. On the contrary, an associated footnote
supports an alternative translation, taking ty as a gentilic. If this
alternative explanation is to be rejected, arguments for doing so should be
given. If it is accepted (or accepted as possible), the original proposition
becomes untenable (or uncertain). In the translation of the colophon the name
Ilimilku is abruptly changed to Ilimalku (p. 11), so the reader is at a loss
to know whether this is a misprint or an alternative vocalisation. A teacher
may well, but a student may well not, recognise that the transliteration
b.trmn in the colophon is an obvious error for
bl.trmn lord of trmn.
Similarly, rendering that place-name in English as THRMN before broaching
the subject of Ugaritic phonemes will seem inelegant to an expert and
frustrating for a novice. Here was an ideal opportunity to refer to the
comparable Akkadian name šarrumanu.[6]

On p. 13 the transcription of the name nqmd, previously rendered as Niqmaddu,
is abruptly changed to Niqumaddu. The reference is to the name as it appears
in hieroglyphic script on a fragment of an alabaster jar. But only the
excavation number is given (RS 15.239). A student will be hard pressed
independently to find the photograph and drawing of the text first published
by C.F.A. Schaeffer.[7] The important
concordance of excavation numbers and publication data compiled by Bordreuil
and Pardee in the series Ras Shamra-Ougarit[8] is never
referred to. Schaeffer transliterated the hieroglyphic signs letter by
letter as nyk3mdy and, writing in French, transcribed the name as Nikamédi.
The transliteration given here, nyk3šmdy (p. 13, end of paragraph 3) is
obviously a careless mistake. The transcription Niqumaddu compounds that
mistake, interpreting the sign for y variously as
i and u, and allowing the
sign for 3 also to represent u.
Such an error and such an inexactitude means
a student's confidence in the reliability of this primer will struggle to
survive. It is incumbent on teachers to quote sources accurately and to
explain any changes that are introduced. Drawing attention to points of
general interest before points of detail is also desirable. This example of
unskilled calligraphy could well be the work of an Ugaritic scribe, much
more familiar with cuneiform than hieroglyphic, trying his hand at
decorating a beautiful Egyptian alabaster vase with the name of his king
participating in an Egyptian ritual. Whether it is a standard offering
ceremony or his marriage with an Egyptian princess must be left open.

In furtherance of the aim to teach the language through actual texts, the
first document to be introduced in Chapter 2 is a well-preserved linear
abécédé (KTU 5.6). No hand-copy accompanies the photograph of the tablet and
sometimes imagination is needed to identify details in the cuneiform font
with those on the inscription itself. The solid cuneiform font is
reminiscent of something lead typesetters would have used in the past,
rather than one with open wedge-heads now in common use. The photograph
fails to show the last sign on the first line. The second tablet, a damaged
tabular abécédé (KTU 5.14) with correlated syllabic cuneiform signs, is
purported to give an indication of the names of the letters (2.5.2, p.
36). A more suitable term would be pronunciations rather than names.
Whether these first documents do fulfill the authors' aim of replicating the
ancient methods of Ugaritic teachers is questionable and the first steps
taken by a student of this primer are not necessarily the same as those
first taken by a pupil in antiquity. It is far from certain that a novice
scribe was taught first to write out letters in order before writing actual
words. But even if it were certain, the ancient pupil would certainly not
have modified this order of letters which approximates the order of the
Hebrew alphabet with some additions (pp. 35-36) to that of modern
dictionaries which follow the order of the Hebrew alphabet plus additions
(p. 38). In fact recently published works, such as del Olmo Lete,
[9] Tropper,[10] and Halayqa,
[11] all adopt a romanised order, similar to
that followed by modern Akkadian dictionaries.

Chapter 3 covers seven letters, in which epistolary style, vocabulary and
grammar are illustrated. On several occasions cross-references are provided
to Chapter 7, where a more structured description of grammar is presented.
The shortest of the letters (KTU 2:12) is given first and used to show that
its format corresponds unit for unit to a typical Akkadian letter (3.1). Why
the lexical and grammatical analysis of this letter is postponed (see 3.5),
when the points it illustrates could as easily have been discussed without
delay, is strange. If that letter had been analysed directly after
explaining its format, the exhaustive commentaries for the two letters (KTU
2.10 and 2.11) which are given precedence would have been considerably
simplified. When it comes to analysing KTU 2.12 the only phrase needing
explanation is šbd w.šbid,
seven times and seven times. The simple
statement that the termination -'id seems to incorporate a vowel letter
deserves amplification,[12] and it is frustrating to follow
the cross-reference to Chapter 7 to the paragraph on multiplicatives
(7.5.3), and find no mention of šbid there.

The first letter to be textually analysed (KTU 2.10) is written on a clay
tablet on which the introductory unit is marked off from what follows with a
long horizontal line. The significance of this line is carefully noted (p.
51, para. 2, and again on p. 52, para. 2), but the line has been omitted from
the copy of the tablet as printed, even though a footnote (p. 46, note 6)
suggests it should have been reproduced. Placing such a strong emphasis in
the grammatical analyses on the conjectural restoration of vowels leads to
encumbering paradigms with more details than are absolutely necessary. The
long paradigm showing the several different ways of vocalising nouns (Fig.
3.3) obscures the fact that the consonantal form of the stem takes only two
inflections, -t and -m. Similarly the paradigm for imperative forms (Fig.
3.4) overlooks the fact that there are no consonantal inflections for number
or gender. There is a column in Fig. 3.3 listing consonantal forms (in part
hypothetical), but not in Fig. 3.4.

The notes on vocalisation seldom leave room for alternative views. The first
word of KTU 2.13, tḥm, is vocalised as
taḥmu, with the explanation that in
our view, a final /-u/ marks this as vocative (p. 47). But Chapter 7 cites
only two examples of vocatives with final aleph (7.4.6, p. 159) and both end
in -'i. Applying the term vocative to an inanimate noun should be further
clarified, especially as a few lines later it is described and translated as
a bound form. The vocative in Ugaritic is fully covered in Tropper.
[13] The possibility of an alternative parsing, taking it as the object of
the imperative rgm, even though this seems easier on the syntax, is
summarily dismissed. The restrictions syntax places on parsing are
completely ignored when saying that the verb in the greeting yšlm.lk (p. 52)
could be taken as either G or D. To argue against G is hard since D-forms
take a direct object.

Administrative texts, by far the most frequent type to have been found at
Ras Shamra, are the subject of Chapter 4. Because the problems they present
generally involve lexemes and interpretation rather than grammar many
teachers prefer to leave them for advanced classes. The four that have been
selected here (KTU 4.143; 4.43; 4.266; 4.709) certainly do not present any
serious grammatical problems and could easily have been annotated before the
more complex grammar of the letters covered in Chapter 3. But they do have
problems of interpretation which would have been much easier to discuss if
some outline translation had been provided. How the titles they are given
were chosen is not immediately clear. KTU 4.143 is described as an
agricultural record, which fails to draw attention to its focus on the
production of the zt (olive)
centred on the gt (translated as royal
estate). Even though gt is shown to
be cognate with a Hebrew noun meaning
winepress, the link between a place where fruit is pressed (gt) and fruit
that is to be pressed (zt) is not mentioned.
The only meaning for zt in the
Glossary is olive, which is likely to lead a student to translate line 2
as 250 olives. Recording the numbers of olive trees was a much more likely
task in hand. The record of tribute in 4.43 begins with the word tlt, but
a student could be excused for thinking that that word was a numeral since
there is no reference in the notes or in the Glossary to the homograph tlt,
copper or bronze (see del Olmo Lete
[14], s.v tlt (V), and
Tropper,[15] s.v. tlt4).
Similarly the word miḫd, harbour in (4.266: 5) is
passed over in silence, but this is the only clue that the document is
concerned with maritime commerce. Turning to the Glossary for guidance in
translating the first phrase of this document, ym.ḥdt, leads to new day
instead of day of the new moon. Using paired angled-brackets for the
restoration of yr<ḫ> in both transliteration and cuneiform departs from
convention.

Numerals permeate administrative texts but the help in the notes and in
Chapter 7 for understanding them is sometimes less than adequate or
confusing. According to 7.5 (p. 164) numerals may be bound to or in
apposition to the noun numbered but the examples cited later in Chapter 7
include none that mirrors ḫmšm.l.mitm. In that same paragraph it is said
that numbers may be written logographically especially in administrative
texts, but no logogram occurs in any of the administrative texts selected
here. So perhaps it was an afterthought to add the remark that numbers
usually are spelled out even in administrative texts. The cardinals from
3-10 are said to exhibit the commonly attested Semitic polarity (7.5.1)
yet these texts include ḫmš.kkrm (4.709:4),
šb.kkr (4.709:1) and tmn.kkrm
(4.43:5), with no suggestion that kkr is a feminine noun. The patterns of
concord in administrative texts do not always follow the patterns found in
literary texts so it is necessary to expand the relevant paragraph in
Chapter 7 to show the implications of these differences. It is not clear why
there is no entry for mat or mit
in the Glossary, or why tlt is glossed as
third when the cited cognates all mean three. A simple note on kbd,
following the numeral 154 (4.43:5, not line 4), to show that the word
reflects Akkadian kibittu total, would have been more apposite than what
is found in the Glossary. There total is taken as a derived meaning from
kbd, liver, which is said to be cognate with
gabīdu (an Amarna dialect
form of kabattu). With the meaning total it is said to be cognate with
Mari kabittum (for which read kibittum). The word kbd then occurs twice with
a different meaning at the end of the next document (4.43: 6, 7).
Intelligent students, when left with no note for guidance, may infer that
bright Ugaritic scribes were ignorant of some of the universal laws of
arithmetic.

The notes on the three selected Legal Texts (KTU 3.3; 3.4; 3.9) in Chapter 5
are not without problems. KTU 3.3 begins with the heading spr rbnm, record
of guarantors but crucial observations have been missed in the notes on
rbn. That the noun comes from -r-b can be taken for granted, but the noun
is not listed as such in the Glossary, leaving the reader to work out how
guarantor can be derived from to enter. That it is to be derived from a
verb cognate with Hebrew -r-b, to stand as surety is given only later
(line 2). The word supplied to justify the vocalisation is urrubānu,
guarantors, which occurs only once (RS 16.287: 7, PRU III, p. 37) as ú-ru-ba-nu,
to be transcribed urubānu (see AHw). It is usually taken as an Akkadian
plural, which could have been reflected in the Ugaritic suffix -m. Since no
clue to explaining the suffix -n is given, a search has to be made in
7.4.8.10. There the only citation to be found is adn, a noun in which -n is
better understood as a radical than a suffix.

In order to show that this Ugaritic text corresponds to similar Akkadian
texts from Ras Shamra the first lines of RS 15.81 (also to be found on p. 37
of PRU III) are transcribed and translated (Fig. 5.1). But if the Akkadian
text referred to earlier (RS 16.287) had been chosen instead, it would have
provided the context for the use of urubānu
and the phrase nabātišunu,
their fleeing (line 8), would have supplied a closer parallel to
b.'bth,
his fleeing.
[16] Negligently PRU page numbers are given only for one of these texts.

The phrase ḥwt.tth is said to be parallel to
Akkadian ina māti šanīti (ana
is the preposition used in RS 15.81) without providing in the notes or in
the Glossary sufficient information to identify tt as a feminine formation
of the ordinal tn, two, or to explain the suffix -h. The ordinal and
cardinal meanings of tn should be separated, and different be given as a
secondary meaning of the ordinal, or even (see Tropper)[17] be listed as a
separate lexeme.

The next section of text is analysed line by line, but this is inadequate
since the sense units are longer than the lines. In lines 5-6, w.mnm.šalm /
dt.tknn, and whatever it is that the investigators establish, the relative
particle (dt) has been transposed from its expected position, immediately
following its antecedent (mnm), to one immediately preceding the verb of the
relative clause. This is not clear from the translation as given, and all
the investigators, whatever they might establish, where mnm is apparently
rendered twice, with all and whatever, and the relative particle is
omitted. The possibility that the verbal suffix -n embodies a resumptive
object suffix also deserved to be noted. In the second part of the sentence
(l.rbnm / hnhmt / tknn, against these guarantors they shall establish
it, lines 7-9) the indirect object of the verbal form tknn is explicitly
and emphatically identified in clause initial position. The suffix -n
embodies the direct object. Some students could feel disheartened when faced
with what may appear as convoluted syntax in an Ugaritic sentence with
hardly any help on how to define what is happening or how to compose a
fluent translation.

The last sentence in the introduction to the text mentions that it ends with
the names of witnesses, but the horizontal line on the tablet separating
this final section is not reproduced in the transliteration. None of the
names or the patronyms of the witnesses are listed as such in the Glossary.
Some elements are listed but the reader is expected to work out whether rb
in ilrb is rain or numerous, great,
chief and whether yn in ilyn is
really wine. Searching for mtn and kb (bdkb) will prove vain. For the
final gentilic gnym (line 13) neither in the notes or in the Glossary is
any reference made to the town of Gana.[18]

There are a number of difficulties with the notes on the next text (KTU 3.4)
which can most conveniently be listed as they occur.

The near demonstrative pronoun in ymhnd (line 1) is said to have been
declined to agree with ym, but in 7.3.5 (p. 157), where the term deictic is
used, it is said to be not declinable. Transcriptions of the personal names
in this text are usually given but in the corresponding translations they
are often simply transliterated; upper-case letters are used as far as line
7 and then from line 8, without comment, transcriptions are used. The name
agdn, is said to exhibit the suffix -n
but no cross reference to (or from)
rbn in the heading of the previous letter (KTU 3.3) is given.

The spelling of the word aḫh (line 4), where it is the object of a verb,
is contrasted with aḫyh in KTU 1.12:ii:50. But there may be some
significance in the fact that it appears there in the phrase šr aḫyh,
prince of his brothers, a genitive plural.

The verb tttbn (line 17) is parsed as š-stem from
t-w-b, but there is no
comment on the assimilation *št > tt in Chapter 7.
To translate ksp as money
can be criticised as an anachronism, but to say that the two words ksp.iwrkl,
the silver of iwrkl form a double accusative misuses that term.

The explanation of wtb (line 19) as an infinitive is probably the best
that can be done, given that any suggestion that the waw-conversive may have
been emergent is far too speculative. But to say that it functions quite
adequately when there is a clear change of verbal subject from the earlier
indicative is far too optimistic.

Instead of the cuneiform font used elsewhere a photograph is provided for
the obverse and the reverse of the last of the legal texts (KTU 3.9). Had
photographs been provided for some of the other texts the observation about
the crudely-made signs on this tablet would have had greater significance.
There are no photographs of the edges of the tablet, so as it is presented,
the last lines of each side are hardly or not at all legible. The horizontal
lines drawn below lines 1 and 4 have not been recorded in the
transliteration. But these are minor criticisms compared to the negligent
way in which the two or three occurrences of an aberrant w are explained. It
is first suggested that in the word btw, his house (line 4),
w is a
mistake, either to be deleted as a dittograph or emended, then (though
uncertainly) that it constitutes an elision of h, and finally that it may
reflect Phoenician orthography. A student could reasonably expect all three
suggestions to be explained further. The first word in line 6, which the
photograph clearly shows to have been written lwm, is wrongly transliterated
as lkm and translated for you without further comment. The second word in
that line, which has clearly been written wm, is similarly wrongly
transliterated, as km. In the notes it is transcribed rather curiously but
without comment as wa*[him]-ma. In view of the awkwardness of the script and
the difficulty of interpreting w in btw, a reasonable assumption would be
that in all three instances the w is to be read as h. To find the reasons
for this apparent lapse will probably not be possible, but the fact that the
scribe has often written w elsewhere on the tablet with the first two
horizontals foreshortened may be a clue. It could well be that these three
examples of w with two full-length horizontals (and with the expected
middle-long horizontal written as two short ones) show the peculiar way in
which this scribe with his admittedly rough hand wrote h. These are the only
occurrences of h on this tablet.

The units of text again seldom coincide with the length of the lines. It
would have been much better to set out the notes according to the speech
units rather than the lines, especially as there are problems in identifying
the subjects of the verbs and the beginnings of direct speech. These
problems are not covered at all in the notes. Preferring I placed to he
placed for št (line 5) can be supported by the fact that the next verb is
obviously first person (agrškm I will expel you, line 6). But since the
first verb governs lwm (line 6), to be transliterated as lhm, for them,
rather than lkm, for you (see above), direct speech more easily begins
with the conditional sentence introduced with hm (not km, see above). The
translation of lines 5-7 will then follow the pattern: He set a storeroom for them. If I expel you from my house I shall pay fifty (shekels of ) silver.

Some remarks in the notes seem out of place, such as in the overview of the
structure of the text, where the first line is tautologous and should be
deleted. Others are asides in the notes about the subject matter. These
belong more properly to the introductory paragraphs, such as the material
from Amos 6:4-7 to support the idea that feasting and music was sine qua non
for a mrzḥ. Others are concerned with etymological questions of vocabulary
which could be dealt with more succinctly in the Glossary, such as ydd from
n-d-d, to wander. To say it is
cognate with Biblical Hebrew n-d-d needs
some qualification, for there to flee is a more secure (though here
inappropriate) meaning. The possibility that a homonymous root occurs in
this passage to give the meaning to stand up against should have been
mentioned. This suggestion is found sub voce in Tropper,[19] a source all
students of Ugaritic need to consult (alongside Pardee's extensive comments
on the book),[20] even
if some of Tropper's ideas do not meet their teachers'
(or Pardee's) approval. General untidiness is revealed in the way that the
lines on the obverse of the tablet are numbered separately from those on the
reverse in the transliteration but consecutively in the notes. There is no
excuse for using so many different styles within so few pages for denoting
conjugations. The variations G suffixed, G suff, G prefix, D Prefixed and D
pref all occur on pp. 114-116. One remark could be understood as an
unjustifiable slur on academic colleagues. The word ibsn is translated
anachronistically and with no etymological or textual support as pub or
barroom and then followed by the comment, This seems reasonable, though
it does cut against the general tendency for modern scholars to assume that
unfamiliar words, places, and artifacts are religious in nature. But modern
scholars have not usually suggested a religious term for ibsn: del Olmo Lete
uses almacén, translated by Watson as warehouse, Tropper uses Vorratskammer,
and Pardee uses drinking-club.

The seven poetic passages in Chapter 6 are annotated much more summarily
than the prose in earlier chapters, to the extent that the last four have no
notes at all (KTU 1.100 [Snake Bite Text]; 1.2 iv [Yam and Baal]; 1.19 [Aqhat];
1.23 [the Birth of the Goodly Gods]), and no cuneiform text is given for the
last three. The notes on the first three texts (KTU 1.114 (El's marziḥu);
1.5 vi:11-25 (Mourning from the Baal [in contrast to Baal for 1.2 iv]
Cycle); 1.14 i-ii (Keret [it is surprising to find the name vocalised thus
in this book] Epic) vary in quality and usefulness. Some glosses on the
vocabulary simply repeat information in the Glossary (e.g. hdm footstool 5
vi:13), but for some reason others are treated differently in the Glossary
or are omitted from it.

lexeme

glossary

notes

reference

atnt

missing

urine

1.114:21

ul

power

freeman or strength

1.14 ii:35

db

to prepare, set

offer

1.114:4

mr

earth (?)

heap of corn

1.5 vi:14

yšq

missing

to pour

1.5 vi:14

Some verbs are parsed but others are not, and the Glossary does not always
confirm the meaning of the verbal stem occurring in the text, for example yštql he
enters (1.114:17) is said to be Gt, but š-q-l is listed only as G.
Similarly, q-y-l to fall, is listed only as G, which is inadequate
information to explain the alternative parsing, št of the root ql
indicating some sort of falling motion, falls over himself.

The implication of some notes cannot be appreciated when no translation is
supplied or the translation given is insufficient. The word d is translated
until, up to (1.100:3), which more or less agrees with what is stated in
the Glossary, but there is no definition for the following word šb. The
Glossary gives no guidance about whether to take it as an infinitive from
š-b-, or as the noun satisfaction, or as the ordinal or cardinal of the
numeral seven. Instead of grouping satisfaction together with seventh
it would have been better to group all forms of šb semantically related to
seven as a separate lemma. Similarly, it is claimed that yks (1.5 vi:16),
from k-s-y,  to cover (perhaps D-stem, but the hesitation suggested by the
question mark in the note is not sustained in the Glossary), can be taken as
passive or active. Without alternative translations the relative merits of
the two suggestions cannot be assessed. This verb occurs in the sentence
lpš.yks / mizrtm, usually translated along the lines of for clothing he
puts on sackcloth.[21] How to transform this into a
passive expression is not immediately obvious. The authors may have intended
to use medial instead of passive and to translate he covers himself,
but for that a much fuller explanation is required. Translations would also
be helpful when doubts are raised about the conjugation of a verb. Ambiguity
is noted for ytb (5 vi:12) but no guidance is given about whether it
represents the suffix conjugation, the preterite, the participle or the
infinitive (as advocated by Smith). Solving such problems is not made easier
by the brusque presentation of the declension of weak verbs in Chapter 7
(pp. 176-177).

Grammatical observations can be inexact. To describe ṣb'i (14 2:33) as a
superlative suggests it is not a noun but an adjective. It is, of course, a
noun, repeated in a bound phrase to impart the quality of excellence. The
verb wyṣi (14 ii:32) is explained as jussive with
i marking ø vowel. The i
may represent a vowel followed by a glottal stop, but that is not the same as
representing a ø vowel. This particular form was not included with the
other final aleph verbs in 7.6.18.3 (p. 177). There the closest analogy is
tṣi, but this is said to reflect taqtil, not taqtul, the paradigm form cited in 7.6.11 (p. 172).

Inconsistencies in format persist, e.g. 3cdual (114:18) and third common
dual (114:9). Text has been omitted, e.g. the subheading column i omitted
on p. 129. Some misprints are irritating, e.g. y.lmn (114:8), corresponding
to ylmn in the cuneiform, but others are misleading. Virollaud's initial
hand copy of what we now know as KTU 14 (as reproduced in Herdner)[22]
showed enough slight scuffing at i:22 for what was
probably to be read as ḫtkh to look more like ḫtkp. Whether the scribe
failed to write the third wedge of the h or the scuffing made it illegible,
there is general agreement that the preferred reading is ḫtkh. The
transliteration given here is ḫtk<h>, which corresponds exactly to the
cuneiform text as given, where angled brackets are also used. This format can
be criticised on two counts. On the one hand, angled brackets are not
expected in a cuneiform copy but only in a transliterated text, where a
measure of editorial interpretation is necessary. On the other hand, they
indicate that there is no space on the tablet for the bracketed element,
which is clearly not the situation here, whether that element were h or p.
Furthermore, the headword for the note, ḫtkp, does not correspond exactly to
the transliteration or to the probable reading.

The didactic approach adopted by the authors necessarily means that salient
points of Ugaritic grammar occur more or less at random in the texts
selected. Chapter 7 provided an opportunity for all of them to be set in
order and where necessary to be described more fully in a less piecemeal
fashion. Here was a good place to add supplementary observations, dispensed
with earlier because of space. But some of these observations deserve more
precise phraseology. In the phonology section it is not quite correct to say
that supplementing the abécédé with two aleph signs is an early application
of matres lectionis (p. 149). That term means to use an existing consonant
also to represent a vowel. The additional signs seem to show an attempt by
scribes, who when writing cuneiform would have been aware of the importance
of vowel notation, to indicate the vowel associated with the glottal stop. A
similar supplementation is found when the alphabet established for West
Semitic was adapted to write Greek. Extra signs were appended to indicate
other consonants and, in a complementary step, unwanted graphemes were
utilised to indicate Greek vowels.

The correlation of Ugaritic phonemes with those in other Semitic languages
(Table 7.1, p. 151) allows orthography to intrude into the phonology. Hebrew
letters are sometimes used to indicate Hebrew, Aramaic and Phoenician
phonemes, though Arabic is not used in a corresponding way. Some of the
phonemes recorded as blanks in the Akkadian column would not have been
blanks if the vagaries of cuneiform writing had been taken more into
account. A changed format for the table would make matters clearer. Arabic
and Ugaritic have the fullest set of phonemes, so those two columns could be
more easily juxtaposed. It would not have been inappropriate to include here
a column for Old South Arabian. Similarly, since Hebrew and Phoenician have
more similarities with one another than they have with Aramaic, they could
also be juxtaposed. Reworking is required to correct the lines that make no
sense. Ugaritic b does not equate with Arabic
f, nor p with
p; Proto-Semitic
g never equates with
b, and j
rather than g would be better for Arabic. The
notes state that Proto-Semitic d may be reflected in Ugaritic d or d (p.
152) but no indication of this is given in the table, even though the
similar bifocation for Aramaic q and  is indicated.

The evidence to support some statements is weak, as when it is asserted that
the three aleph signs always indicate the vowel that follows the glottal
stop except when aleph is word final (p. 149). Almost all the words cited to
illustrate this assertion begin with aleph, so it is obvious that the vowel
follows the consonant. The word rpim, healers, vocalised rāpi'īma, is the
one example given with non-initial aleph. But since with words that do not
end in aleph the plural suffix -īma is written as -m, the sign i in rpim
could just as well indicate the vowel that precedes the aleph. No examples
are given where 'a is omnivalent or where 'i is word final. It can be
difficult to comprehend the patterns in which vowels and consonants are
assimilated. Evidence from assimilated forms such as yšu, he lifts (p.
150), to show that a geminated consonant could be written with a single
letter is undisputed, but references to cognate nouns do not always carry
quite the same weight. It is almost certainly correct to say that prt,
cow, should be transcribed parratu, but this overlooks the fact that the
cognate word in Syriac is written parāta, ewe. The example given to
illustrate vowel elision is tittar˙u > *tiytara˙u (p. 154), where clearly <
should have been used instead of >. Such an error is as serious as using +
for - in a primer on arithmetic. It should have been picked up at the latest
while the book was still in the proof stages.

The notes on morphology are not without problems. The table 7.3.3 lists the
pronominal suffixes (in other chapters tables of paradigms were numbered as
figures but in Chapter 7 they are numbered as paragraphs). But even though
the nominal suffixes are distinguished from the verbal suffixes only with
first singular nouns, amalgamating them into one table is messy.

The determinative-relative pronoun d (7.3.4) is described first as
determinative, i.e. the one of (7.3.4.1), and then as relative, i.e. the
one who (7.3.4.2). Comparable forms in Hebrew, Aramaic and Arabic are cited
for the vocalisation, but Akkadian ša, with which the Ugaritic pronoun
shares many features of syntax, is not mentioned. Akkadian dictionaries
separate ša immediately preceding a noun in the genitive (CAD, s.v. a; AHw.,
s.v. A) from ša introducing a subordinate clause related to an antecedent
(CAD, s.v. b; AHw, s.v. B). Since neither paragraph 7.3.4.1 or 7.3.4.2 cites
an example without an antecedent, distinguishing the two pronouns from the
evidence adduced presupposes that the meanings of the texts are precisely
understood, but in Ugaritic meanings are often elusive. The penultimate
sentence in 7.3.4.2 sounds like an inappropriate intrusion and would fit
better in 7.3.4.1. In fact the antepenultimate sentence of 7.3.4.1 is
remarkably similar (declined is changed to construed) which suggests
that someone has botched a cut-and-paste job.

Sometimes there are apparent contradictions. The proposition that the prefix
vowel of the š-stem might have been u as in Akkadian (7.6.3, p. 167) is
qualified with the statement that there is some evidence that favors /a/.
The supporting example chosen is yšš'il (yušaš'ilu) he shall cause to
enquire, which supports the main proposition, not the qualifying statement,
and so should be moved back. The passive of the š-stem is then illustrated
by the form yttb, which is translated he shall be seated, but he shall be
made to sit would evoke the causative nuance better. The evident regressive
assimilation *št > tt is left without any explanatory comment. To illustrate
the reflexive idea of the Gt-stem the form yitsp is translated as he
gathered (7.6.1) which gives little sense of a reflexive. Similarly for the
št-stem the form yštḫwy is cited, but neither the principal translation, he
shall ask for life, or the paraphrase, greet by prostration, give a
reflexive sense. The root ḥ-w-y is here marked with an asterisk, but in the
next paragraph and in some other parts of the book, a square-root symbol is
found. On several occasions, probably because of inconsistent typesetting,
this symbol seems to have been curiously replaced by a sublinear point, e.g.
on p. 129 with n-p-l. In the Glossary roots are usually distinguished from
forms with uppercase characters. That comparatively simple typesetting
problems were not always solved seems clear from ¨Zrich (p. 166, note 8).

Some phraseology is opaque and could prove misleading. It is said that
within the four basic stems of the verb there are [sic at] least eight
tenses or aspects and the reader is at a loss to know whether the word
moods has been accidentally or deliberately omitted. The Suffix
Conjugation is distinguished from the Prefix Conjugation in 7.6.5, but
conjugations is also used in 7.6.4 for verbal forms with lengthening or
reduplication of radicals (the L-form and the R-form). Perhaps stem was
the word intended for these verbal forms, especially as it is admitted that
they are sometimes considered as irregular D-forms.

The words in the glossary are arranged according to the alphabetic order
suggested by Gordon.[23] This
is not quite the same as the order an ancient scribe would follow for an
abécédé, which has been described as not suitable for alphabetizing in a
work of modern scholarship.[24] The authors of this book,
who wished to follow the spirit of Ugaritic paedagogy, have had to be
slightly less purist. In this they follow the example of Bordreuil and
Pardee who used it for their Glossaire, but integrated sign 1 with 2 and 3
and sign 20 with 21.[25]
Today's standard dictionary (del Olmo Lete)[26]
as well as the short lexicon designed for student use (Tropper)[27]
prefer to take Akkadian dictionaries as their model. It can be commended as
practical and an implicit recognition that Ugaritic represents an element of
cuneiform literacy.

The decision to amalgamate English proper names with Ugaritic lexemes in the
Index results not only in untidiness but unevenness. A sample check suggests
that not nearly enough attention has been paid to compiling it. Some
important items are missing, such as the disputed translation of the homonym
zbl at 1.14:ii, 45. The problem was noted (with a misprint) on p. 131, and
it was one of sufficient importance to have been mentioned in the index. On
the other hand we find three references to mlkny (a hypothetical dual form
of the root mlk, but curiously not italicised) which are only incidentally
concerned with that lexeme. The first reference (p. 56) is to a paradigm
table for the G Suffix Conjugation of the strong verb (Fig. 3.7) and the
second (p. 72, presumably an error for p. 73) to an identical table (Fig.
3.11, an unnecessary duplication) pertaining to the form qlny which is
derived not from a strong but from a midweak root. The third reference (p.
171, presumably an error for p. 169) is to the same table in a slightly
modified format (7.6.7). It seems strange in an index to cite a lexeme, one
that is not actually attested, to illustrate a less common grammatical form
instead of identifying the form that deserves to be indexed. The fact that
ttpl is listed incorrectly in bold font, exactly as it occurs correctly on
p. 129, suggests that there has been some kind of automatic copying and
pasting from text to index. In fact the three page references for ttpl are
all wrong (125, 128 and 131 seem to be errors for 123, 126 and 129). In
itself this is frustrating but discovering that the first of them leads
simply to some cuneiform script, the second to the corresponding
transliteration and only the third to an explanation of the verb form, makes one's
frustration explode into exasperation. There are so many wrong page
references in the Index that, if automatic software was used to generate
them, it must have been misapplied or seriously bugged. If the Index is
essentially the result of human effort then that effort was not exerted on
the final page proofs.

It has been most disappointing to find so many difficulties with a book that
had such a well judged aim. Perhaps it was not sufficiently focused. Several
successful surveys of Ugaritic published in the 1980s paid much less
attention to language.[28]
Of the most recently published
grammars Bordreuil and Pardee[29]
does include a historical and cultural
survey, but Tropper[30]
follows the tradition of earlier grammars[31]
by essentially restricting itself to questions of language. If the
historical and cultural overview had been briefer more attention could have
been paid to the language without increasing the size or cost.

This primer expected students first to understand essentially
straightforward prose directly extracted from original texts before
confronting more ambiguous passages of verse. It had the potential to become
a standard classroom text. Unfortunately it fails to achieve that status
because it is replete with errors and obscurities. But even without these,
questions remain about the paedagogical presuppositions of the authors. The
most successful results of applying the inductive method to language
teaching involve living languages, including Modern Hebrew and Modern
Arabic. More limited progress has been claimed when applying the method to
written languages, in particular to Classical Latin and Greek but also to
Biblical Hebrew. But with its relatively tiny text corpus and only minimal
traces of vowels, Ugaritic challenges the method to the extreme. Not only
because of this, but also because no serious student would expect to or
would be expected to begin learning Ugaritic before obtaining competence in
a mainstream Semitic language, Ugaritic is suited to a more formal approach.
That explains the success of books such as those of Sivan and Tropper, where
a concise description of the language is followed by an annotated anthology
of texts.

It is also of fundamental importance that teachers first draw a student's
attention to features that are evident and describe the best attempts to
explain those features, including their own preferred explanations, before
proceeding to speculate about possibilities that are not actually attested.
Similarly students must first familiarise themselves with facts before
assessing the strengths and weaknesses of rival explanations and advancing
their own ideas. Given that Ugaritic has now firmly taken its place in the
Semitic family and the phonetic value of all 30 graphemes is more or less
accurately established, any attempts to understand the language depend first
on recognising cognate lexemes. Once the possible links have been
established, understanding depends on integrating the grammatical
information inherent in the consonantal text and accommodating that to the
demands of syntax. It is only at that stage that speculation about
vocalisation is appropriate.

Here priority is always given to vocalisation in such a way that for most of
the time students will be denied the opportunity of juggling lexical and
grammatical ambiguities inherent in the consonantal text with whatever
competence they have acquired from an ability in another sphere of Semitic
studies. It should have been possible to take a few passages and show that
different translations could be produced from different vocalisations. Such
an exercise would elicit from the mind of a student of Biblical Hebrew the
challenge of vocalising unpointed texts. The revocalisation of Ugaritic has
been given priority in the research work of scholars, presupposing as it
does rigorous investigation into the comparative Semitic grammar. Even so,
it is essentially speculative and can be regarded as secondary for a
beginner. This is not to say that it should be ignored in a primer, but it
should not be put in prime position.